When Genevieve Jeuck and Michael Sallemi came up with their romantic little idea, it seemed perfect.
They would get married in early October on the rim of the Grand Canyon, just as the cooling winds of autumn were starting to blow. With family and friends standing by, they would pledge their love to each other. Cue the rainbow, and the cry of the circling eagle.
Then their uncle showed up. Uncle Sam. And everything went to hell.
"Well, I've been going through a lot of emotions," Genevieve said after the government shutdown put the canyon off limits, and their plans on ice. "I cried. I was freaking out. I had to make all new plans."
She is not alone. About two dozen couples planned to tie the knot in National Parks over the next few days, and now they can't even pitch a pup tent. "We've been joking," Genevieve says, "that the government is going to put a tarp over (the canyon) so we can't see it."
Stubborn Republicans or dogmatic Democrats
Listen to Democrats, and the government shutdown is a tale of recklessly stubborn Republicans driving the country into a chasm. Listen to Republicans, and it's a story of cleverly dogmatic Democrats who would rather see calamity than make a deal.
But listen to many voters and you'll hear a question: How is it possible that both parties have failed so badly in the relatively simple task of keeping the federal government open for business?
"If I don't perform at my job, then I don't get paid," Sallemi, the canyon-stranded groom says. "That should hold true for other people."
It is simple to measure the impact of the shutdown in numbers: more than 843,000 employees may be told to pack up their staplers and go home until they are called back; a billion dollars a week could be falling out of the economy as a result of the cut in federal spending.
An emotional rollercoaster
It is also easy to understand why furloughed federal workers are angry. After all, one of the perks of government employment has traditionally been stability. Not so much anymore.
Along the National Mall, a woman leaving her government office for what, at the moment, is an undetermined period of time looked disgusted. "We've been on an emotional rollercoaster for a while."
Defense worker Rob Merritt has already taken a hit to his income this year from the forced budget cuts, and he is struggling with unexpected medical bills. While he waits to see how long and severe the shutdown is, he fears for his family of six. "If we were to go into a moderate government shutdown, I'd probably have to file for bankruptcy."
"Federal workers have nothing to do with bringing about the government shutdown," says William Dougan. He's the head of the National Federation of Federal Employees and adds, "but they are the ones who are going to feel the impact of it the greatest."
But frustration is echoing among many other Americans, too; from cities, to the countryside, to the valleys of all those empty national parks.
Part of it is the sheer ridiculousness of what has been caught in the financial and political vise.
At the National Zoo, there will be no more "panda cam" for those keeping track of those little black and white balls of fur. Also, in case you're counting, no tiger, orangutan, or clawed otter cams.
In orbit, American astronauts will apparently be just fine on the International Space Station, but we won't be able to spy on them through NASA TV.
It also appeared for a while that no one would be watching for asteroids hurtling toward the earth, then the space agency tweeted "To clarify: Many observatories ... are watching the sky." That did not stop the galactic snarkiness from Benjamin Barnes, who tweeted right back, "But we're all still gonna die, right?"
And on the football field, Air Force may not play Navy this weekend as scheduled. Apparently the cost of travel is an issue, although perhaps they no longer have a coin to toss for the kickoff either.
Within a short walk of both the Capitol and the White House, one scene captivated what is clearly maddening about the situation for all sorts of people.
A group of veterans from Mississippi, many in wheelchairs, came to Washington to see the World War II Memorial, only to find the open-air site fenced off. After some consternation, the fences were pushed aside. A bagpiper played, the vets went in, and guards just looked on while members of Congress on hand railed about the stupidity of the whole scene.